Not What He Needed
by IWannaLiveInABigBlueBox
Summary: Blaine goes to Scandals a lot after the break up. He likes the feeling of being wanted that the men give him. But one night, one of his partners goes a little too far. Warning: Non-con (not explicitly describe, but it is kind of the center of the story), and underage drinking.


**Warning: Non-con (not explicitly describe, but it is kind of the center of the story), and underage drinking.**

**A/N: I believe this was a blangstpromptoftheday like a year ago, but I don't remember what number or exactly what the prompt was, so I may or may not have followed it completely.**

**Word Count: ~2,700**

Blaine was drunk. He was drunker than he had ever been, and yet he still felt the pain. The constant pang of guilt in his stomach. The aching of his broken heart.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be. He had been told by his father and his brother and just about every TV show or movie in existence that if you drank enough you could drown out any emotion you don't like.

Of course he knew it was his fault he felt this way. He had cheated on Kurt. He deserved to feel this way. It would be worse if he didn't. That still didn't mean he wouldn't at least try to stop feeling bad.

His original plan had been profuse apologies and make-up gifts, but he had quickly realized that that wasn't helping. In fact, it was probably making things worse. Kurt need some time to breathe, so he gave him that.

But what was Blaine supposed to do to ease the hurt?

Somehow the only answer he had found to that question was Scandals.

Maybe it didn't exactly help him feel better, but it did distract him. It had taken him a while to get used to guys who weren't Kurt grinding up against him, but after he had reminded himself that they weren't together about a billion times, it actually made him feel kinda good. Made him feel wanted.

Tonight wasn't like most nights. Most of the time he was trying to escape the constant, underlying guilt, but this time he had fresh wounds he was trying to fix up with the alcohol.

Kurt and him had been talking a lot lately. They were rebuilding the friendship they had, rebuilding the trust Blaine had ripped down. It was nice. Blaine was feeling less guilty with each phone call or skype chat.

But when Blaine had called him tonight to discuss what song he should sing for this week's Glee assignment, Rachel had told him that Kurt was out with _Adam_. Blaine didn't know who _Adam _was, he didn't even know if _Adam _was gay. But hearing that Kurt was out with another guy (doing things that may or may not be date-like), had been enough to send Blaine's rising hopes that there was a chance for them to get back together plummeting.

So for the first time in over a month Blaine had found himself at Scandals, once again drowning his sorrows.

The bartender had greeted him, making some remark about having not seen him for a while. Blaine wasn't really listening, he was concentrating on not crying as he took his usual beer and chugged it.

Blaine was a light weight. A beer and a half and he would start having trouble walking straight. Three beers and he could barely stand on his own. Normally he was smart enough to stop after that, or he would have someone there to stop him.

But he needed the alcohol desperately tonight. Too desperately to even pay attention to the fact that he was on his fifth beer.

The man he was dancing with was a bit older than the guys he normally went for, and a lot handsier. His hands slid down Blaine's chest, gripped his hips, squeezed his ass, he even went so far as to cup Blaine through his pants.

Blaine moaned breathily, his forehead falling onto the man's shoulder.

It took him a minute to realize he was being dragged away from the dance floor, toward the bathroom. He tensed, stumbling behind the man. He knew what happened in the bathroom, Sebastian had gloated about all the guys he'd fucked while they'd been bent over the sinks.

"No," he said hoarsely, trying to pull away from the man, but the man only tugged him closer and through the door. He pushed him into the handicapped stall and slid the lock shut behind them, shoving Blaine against the wall and kissing him, hard.

Blaine squirmed trying shake him off but the man was relentless, bringing their intertwined hands up and pinning them above Blaine's head.

"N-no, _please_," Blaine whimpered when the man pulled away to catch his breath.

"Such a slut on that dance floor," he whispered, his breath drifting across Blaine's face, "such a whore for it."

Blaine shuddered, "Please, I don't—"

The man covered Blaine's mouth with his hand, "Gonna make you feel so good, baby."

—

"Blaine?"

Blaine was curled up in his front seat, his knees pressed to his chest, and his phone held to his ear. He wasn't sure who he had been trying to call, but he knew who he'd gotten.

"_Kurt_," he gasped out through his shaking sobs.

Blaine heard some muttering on the other end of the line and then a door shutting. "Blaine, what's wrong?"

Blaine shook his head, "I-I don't…" he broke of, his ass flaring with pain as he shifted in his seat, "It _hurts_."

"What hurts, Blaine?" Kurt asked, his voice filled with worry.

Blaine just sobbed again. He couldn't say it. Couldn't tell him. He shouldn't have called. He'd probably just ruined Kurt's night.

"Blaine, you can tell me anything and you can always call me. Don't feel bad."

Had he said that all out loud?

"Now just tell me what happened, okay?"

Blaine took a deep breath, digging his knuckles into his eye socket, trying to gouge out the image of that man. "I didn't want it," he whimpered.

Kurt was silent for a moment. "Blaine, where are you?"

"Sc-scandals parking lot."

"Are you in your car?"

"Yeah, yeah, I am," Blaine was still shivering, his whole body quaking. He was almost positive he was shaking his car his convulsions were so bad.

"Okay, honey, I want you to sing a song to yourself. Any song. I'm going to hang up—"

Blaine made a frightened noise.

"Shh, shh, it's okay. I'll call right back. I'm just gonna call someone to come pick you up, okay? Sing a song to yourself and I'll call you back in five minutes. Can you do that for me?"

Blaine swallowed thickly, "I-I think so."

"Good, Blaine, start singing…"

Blaine started humming the tune of Blackbird to himself quietly, rocking gently in his seat.

"Good, good, now keep going. I'll call back in five minutes."

The line went silent.

Blaine continued humming, eventually a few of the words made their way past his lips and he cleared his throat so he could sing better. He jumped when his phone started ringing.

"Did you keep singing?" Kurt asked when he picked up.

"Yes, Kurt," Blaine said, his shaking had calmed a little, just a few shivers running up his spine every now and then.

"Good, I'm proud of you, Blaine."

Blaine sniffled a little.

"Now, do you want me to just talk or…"

"C-can you sing to me?" he asked.

"Of course I can, sweetie. Just listen to my voice, forget everything else, okay?"

Blaine nodded even though Kurt couldn't see him.

Kurt started singing quietly to him through the speaker, a medley of songs that changed every verse or so. Blaine relaxed into his seat, his shakes gone now.

He started when he heard a tapping on his window, a frightened yelp escaping his mouth. He saw a dark figure peering through the glass, but he couldn't make out any featured.

"Kurt," he whimpered, pushing himself over the center console and into the passenger seat.

"Shh, shh, Blaine," Kurt soothed, "it's just my dad. Can you unlock the door and let him in?"

Blaine reached a shaking hand to the unlock button, pressing it once. The figure opened the door carefully and Burt Hummel poked his head in. "Hey, kiddo," he said, a small, sad smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Blaine nodded at him once.

"Blaine? Blaine? Are you okay?"

"It's-it's him, Kurt. I'm fine," he voice was still quivering, but he was better than he had been a few minutes ago.

"Wanna go home, buddy?" Burt asked him.

Blaine nodded, "I'm-I'm good now, Kurt. You can… go back to… what you were doing."

"Are you sure, Blaine?"

Blaine looked at Burt who gave him an encouraging look.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Enjoy the rest of your night. I'll be fine." He hung up, climbing gingerly out of the car. Burt rushed to his side when his legs tried to give out on him. He limped to the car.

—

Kurt dropped his suitcase in the foyer, walking into the kitchen. The second Blaine had hung up he'd gotten online and found a ticket home, leaving a voicemail for Isabelle to tell him he needed some time off.

Burt and Carole looked up at him when he entered. They were sitting at the table half-drunk mugs of cold tea in front of them.

"Where is he?" he asked.

"Your bedroom," Burt said.

Kurt was out of the room and halfway up the stairs before Burt finished speaking. He paused in front of his door, taking a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for what he was about to see.

He cracked the door open slowly, peeking his head in. Blaine was on his bed, curled around his pillow with the blankets resting lightly on his legs. He was trembling, muffled sobs breaking their way out of his throat.

"Blaine?" Kurt called gently, shutting the door behind him. He padded across the room and perched on the side of the bed. "Blaine, sweetie?" he placed his hand on Blaine's shoulder and the younger boy violently jerked away. Kurt pulled his hand back.

Blaine twisted on the bed, the blankets tangling around his legs as he frantically tried to scramble away from Kurt.

"Blaine, Blaine, shh, it's just me," Kurt tried to soothe.

Blaine's wild, frightened eyes finally landed on Kurt and then suddenly he was in his lap, hugging him for all he was worth. Kurt froze for a second, but quickly recovered and wrapped his arms around Blaine, holding him close to his chest.

"_Kurt_," he whimpered, burying his face in his shoulder.

"I got you, sweetheart, I got you, shh, it's okay, you're safe."

Blaine sobbed into his shirt, his fingers curling into the fabric, as Kurt whispered in his ear. Kurt rocked him gently, sliding back on the bed until they were laying down, Blaine curled against his chest. Slowly, very slowly, Blaine's sobs turned to hiccups and sniffles, and then they stopped all together.

Kurt rubbed his back, thinking Blaine had fallen asleep until he spoke.

"I'm sorry I ruined your date," he muttered quietly, his fingers drumming gently on Kurt's chest.

Kurt sighed, "It wasn't a date… Adam's just a friend. And even if it had have been, this is more important."

"You-you came all the way back to Lima…"

"To take care of you. I needed to be here for you."

Both boys were silent for a moment.

"I didn't know how to stop him," Blaine finally whispered, hiding his face from Kurt, "He-he… I was dizzy and everything was fuzzy and he was so-so much bigger than me. I-I just wanted to feel wanted… but I didn't want _that_." Blaine shuddered, curling farther in on himself."

"Shh…" Kurt soothed, rubbing small circles into Blaine's back, "it's okay, Blaine, he's not here. You're safe."

Eventually Blaine did fall asleep. The pain didn't melt away when he slept. He still shook and his eyes flitted beneath his lids as his fingers clenched tight around the fabric of Kurt's shirt. His eyebrows were drawn together and small, frightened whimpers broke out of his mouth every now and then. Kurt softly shook him awake when the noises got too frequent for his liking. Blaine bolted upright, his head whipping around as he pushed himself closer to Kurt, trying to hide from the dark figures he was imagining in the room. Kurt held him tight and sang quietly to him until he calmed down and drifted back to sleep again.

That happened at least three more times before Carole poked her head through the door and then came all the way in with a tray full of pancakes balls and fruit. She set it on the bedside table and perched on the side of the bed.

"Did he say anything?" she asked, carding her fingers through the sleeping boy's hair. Blaine flinched a little and she withdrew her hand.

Kurt nodded, swallowing thickly, "He-he told me he was raped… but he didn't say much more."

Carole nodded, tears shining in her eyes, "We'll help him through this, Kurt. He's a strong boy… he'll make it."

"I know," Kurt said, his voice quavering, "I just hate that he has to go through this. Hasn't he been through enough already?"

Carole shrugged, "It's true, he has been through way too much for a boy his age. Sometimes I think the best people always end up in the worst situations. Like their goodness just draws all the bad things to them. But it's also those same people that become the strongest, because they've had to fight so much," she took Kurt's hand and he looked up at her, "Blaine will be okay, Kurt."

Kurt sniffled, nodding.

"Try and get him to eat something. Then we'll talk about going to the police," she instructed, patting Kurt's foot. She left the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.

"Blaine," Kurt whispered, shaking him gently, "Wake up, it's time to eat."

Blaine's eyes snapped open, wide and scare, but then calmed when he saw Kurt. "Morning," he mumbled, a small smile on his face as he looked up at him. Blaine struggled into a sitting position, "Ow," he whined quietly.

"What hurts?" Kurt asked, his hands flitting around, searching for a way to help.

"My head," Blaine moaned, digging his fists into his temples.

Kurt laughed, "Here, Carole made some great hangover food," he pulled the tray over onto the bed.

Blaine took one of the pancake balls and bit into it. "These are delicious," he said, his mouth full.

"Swallow," Kurt commanded, grimacing at the sight of the food in Blaine's mouth.

Blaine tensed and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Blaine? I—oh god, I'm sorry, I didn't—"

Blaine held a hand up, cutting him off. He took a few deep, calming breaths before opening his eyes. "I'm okay," he said, his voice still shaky.

"_He_ said that… didn't he?" Kurt asked quietly.

Blaine nodded, dropping the remainder of his pancake ball back on the tray.

Both boys were silent for a few minutes.

"We should go to the police," Kurt finally said.

Blaine didn't look at him, "I don't want to."

"But… they need to catch him…"

Blaine shook his head, "I was drunk, they won't care. They'll say I wanted it."

"You're still underage, Blaine."

"Exactly, they're more likely to throw me in a cell for drinking than actually try to find him. A drunk gay teenager raped in Ohio? The cops won't do anything," he spat out.

"Blaine… we have to try," Kurt pleaded.

"I don't want to. I want… I want to move on. I want to get past this. I don't want to have to constantly relive it by talking about it. I don't want to go to the cops. I just… I want to act like it never happened. Okay?"

"Blaine—"

"_Please_, Kurt?" Blaine begged.

"No," Kurt said, "You need to go to the police. Please go to the police, Blaine. They can't help you if you won't let them."

Blaine glared at him.

"We won't leave your side. My family and I, we'll be there for you the whole time. At least try. If it scares you too much, we won't push any more. But a least file a report. Can you do that? For me?"

Blaine wilted a little. "I don't want to," he repeated.

"I know… but you need to."

Blaine nodded, "I'll do it."

Kurt smiled brightly at him. "Thank you."

Blaine nodded, picking up his abandoned pancake ball and nibbling on it, forcing out a smile of his own.

Blaine wasn't okay. But he would be. Kurt would make sure of it. He would be with him every step of the way until that smile was completely genuine.


End file.
